Why?
by emotionalcrack
Summary: ANGSTY, Oneshot... Rogue's thoughts after she tries to commit suicide. It does have a happy ending though. some romy


**Disclaimer: I don't own any X-Men characters**

**AN: This is just a one-shot. I was feeling very sad today and I just started writing the most depressing thing I could think of. However, I could never write anything without a happy ending at least... Please Review!**

**Rogue's POV**

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* * *

Why?**

**First thoughts…**

They wanted to know my motives. Why did I do what I did? That's what they really were thinking. That's the only question they wanted me to really answer. All that bullshit about _"Rogue how are you feeling?"_ or _"Rogue, do need anything?"_ was just a prologue to get me ready for the actual question _"Rogue, Why?"_ It's understandable for your family and friends to want to know the juicy part of the story. So they can find the person among them to blame. I guess it's better to point a finger then to look at your own mistakes. But I didn't actually think they cared about my condition or the fact that I was lying in the Med Bay with bandages around my wrist. Of course not. I expected that of them because I understood every person standing there looking at me like I'm some poor innocent victim. Some of them even looked angry. Those faces just made me laugh. It's funny how I took the time to get to know these people and they can't even understand why I couldn't take the pressure anymore. I know them and they don't know me at all. Not even my so-called brother or best friend.

_What the hell are you staring at!_ That's what I wanted to scream at them. It's your damn fault! I wanted to accuse. The paranoia was getting to me and I felt like I was going to burst. Everyone was expecting me to give them an answer. Did they really want to know the truth? Did I even want to know the truth? I had just failed at what I wanted to accomplish and I had to live. Another thing I can't do right. The irony of attempted suicide, the "attempted" part means you suck at everything, including killing yourself. Great! Now I'm going to live with this for the rest of my life. I blame myself even though I still want the others to feel guilty too.

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Two days later…**

Don't worry; I'm not a psycho or anything. I just had a few difficulties excepting the way how life was for me at the time. The previous paragraph was just my thoughts when I first woke up in the hospital. I felt so ashamed and the thought of facing people after you did something as desperate as self-homicide made me feel even worse. I was contemplating suicide for a long time before I actually did anything. I just felt so awful, inside. You know that feeling where you feel trapped and empty. Yeah, it sucks doesn't it? I didn't know my reason for living anymore. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be dead.

The reason why I did it is not anything glamorous. It's just a regular true story of an unbalanced mutant being forced to do something against her will that eventually fucks up her life and leads her to ultimate down fall. The untouchable mutant. The mutant with the poisonous skin!

I think it's appropriate for me to give my views on the definition of suicide. I feel that this will help you to understand where I'm coming from and why I felt so angry and depressed that I had to end my life. See I feel that suicide is an act of selfishness. I mean, I really didn't care about anyone's feelings except my own. Hell, I didn't really think there will be much people mourning me anyway. What I wanted was my friends and family, I guess it's only the X-men because I basically have no other family, to feel sorry. I wanted them to feel awful because they can touch and I can't. I wanted them to feel guilty for making me commit such an act of desperation. They obviously didn't realize I was feeling crappy until I almost died. Like I said before; selfish.

Suicide is a rush too. I don't mean to offend anyone but the thought that you will be no more in a few seconds just made me feel like I was floating. I was too anxious to feel death. What was after life? Is it better or worse? Am I going to hell? Will I become a ghost? All these thoughts whirled in my head while I sat on the bathroom floor and watched the blood flow before I closed my eyes. Like I said before, I'm not a psycho; it's just that when you're depressed you conjure up some crazy shit. If you've ever been depressed, you can honestly understand and feel what I felt. It was like there was nothing left for me to live for. I was completely empty and drained. Just think about it. Close your eyes and just believe for that a split second nothing in this world makes you happy, nothing even matters. Even your favorite things seem unable to help you feel better. Take all the pressure you can think of , betrayal, sadness, anger, envy, and place all that shit right on your heart. You feel so overwhelmed and it seems that everyone around you doesn't care. You carrying everyone's problems including your own. You're plagued with constant worries. You can only think about being free but it's so far from you. You're in a deep ditch and you're alone and fucking cold as hell. That is depression. It's cold. It's a curse. It's hell. It's darkness. It's evil and it makes you think evil and believe evil. It's heartless. It rips you apart and it led me to suicide.

Finally, suicide is lonely. You're dealing with everything alone. It's just a shitty thing a person has to do if they want to escape their problems the easy way. I wanted the easy way out. I had been trying to work with my feelings but nothing worked. It kept getting harder and harder to the point where I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating under the pressure and I needed to get out fast.

In all this, all this awful shit, I attempted to kill myself. I let little and big things overcome me and bring me down. I let myself trust the wrong people and pushed my real friends away. I let many inexcusable things happen right before my eyes and did nothing. The secrets ate me alive. I was faced with struggle and even let someone steal my pride away. I didn't want to accept the fact that life wasn't easy. Instead I wanted everything to be happy and wonderful. I had the wrong definition of life. I lied to myself. I had the wrong definition of everything and ultimately I grew hollow and empty to the point of suicide.

Now I'm lying here, in the Med Bay, still feeling sorry for myself. He's looking at me. Anger, relief, hurt, sadness, remorse, and a plethora of other emotions in his red and black eye's as he looked down at me. I bet Kitty called him here when everyone found out I had woke up. Did I want to see him? Am I still angry at him? What do you say to the man you love? How do you tell him why you wanted to end life? All these thoughts running through my head, scrapping my brain, preventing me from speaking. I know he feels guilty but so do I. _No!_ I'm not supposed to feel guilty. He lied to me! I look away from him as tears stream down my face.

"Chere…" Good he broke the silence first. I could here the scratchiness of his voice. Had he been crying? "…Why?"

I cringed at that word. At least he didn't beat around the bush before asking me. Everyone had asked me that same question already. Kurt, Kitty, Logan, the Professor, Jean, Scott… all of them. Does anyone really have to answer that question? You know why, well, maybe he wasn't the full reason. He was just the last straw. But I won't give him that gratitude. I didn't do it for the others why should I do it for him. "How's Belledonna?" I finally asked looking back at the man I loved square in the eye. I knew this will make feel guilty about the situation even if he didn't already. He frowned when I said that. I can tell he felt bad about the situation but people just shouldn't lie to the person they "loved".

"I dunno. Chere, it's not what y'tink" He began. I guess he must be a telepath since he knows what I'm thinking. I don't feel like talking to him anymore. All the anger and pain I felt two days ago started swell up in the pit of my stomach. My heart is feeling heavy again. I hate being depressed.

He continues, "I ain't gonna marry dat fille. It was an arrange marriage. Noting' I could do bout it."

"Why should Ah believe that?"

"Cause it be the truth!"

"Why did yah leave meh, here?"

"I had to go ta N'awlins to fix it."

"Then why didn't yah just tell meh?" I asked. Somehow his words made feel better. Maybe it gave me hope, if I knew I what hope felt like. It's been a long time since I associated the feeling with anything. I'm not going to be quick to forgive him, though. It's just like riding a rollercoaster. Rising, believing all the nice and wonderful things he says to me and then out of no where dropping right back down. I hate the fall.

"I didn tink it would matter. I'm sorry, chere." He said. He reached over and gently stroked my face with his finger tips wiping some lingering tears away. _Why do I let him do this to me! _"Y' should a let me be dere for ya, ma chere."

I started sobbing at this point. I'm too damn weak. His voice, his touch, his damn empathy does crazy shit to me. I can feel him reaching out for me…. WAIT! He's touching me. _How the hell?_

"Remy…?" I try to articulate through tears.

"Je t'aime, chere. Si vous me laissez prendre soin de vous, vous seul ne vous sentirez pas." He answered smiling at me.

"But how?"

"Mon amour y' can touch anyone who y' trust. I guess deep down inside y' trust me. When I was comin' from the Bayou I stopped to see Agatha Harkness ta ask her to help ya. She tol' me that we were able ta touch a long time ago. The minut we fell in love. Y' be able touch anyone that y' let yourself trust. Tink about it. When did y' powers kick in?"

Another thing to remind me of why I was lying in that bed. It was the beginning of it all. Three years ago seemed like yesterday. The reason why I couldn't trust anyone or let anybody touch me. The first night my curse manifested and haunted me until now. It was the night when I was sixteen and my purity was stolen from me. "The night that Cody…"

"No need ta say it, chere. Je sais… I hoping to give y' the good news in person. I was on my way back when I got the call from Kitty that ya…" He stopped there. No need for him to finish anyway. We both knew what the call was about. Now it was my turn to feel guilty. Here is a guy who loves me so much and would do anything for me and I go and try to kill myself. I hate myself more than ever now.

"Don hate y'self, chere. Just let me be there for ya." He replied knowing exactly what I was thinking. Okay maybe I do know what hope is.


End file.
